


A Strange Sort of Relief

by Nary



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Comfort Sex, Drunk Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now he's the one in the bar every night sucking back the booze, trying his damnedest to kill a piece of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Strange Sort of Relief

Sam's not sure how he can miss her so bad when he spent most of the time they were together hurting. Yeah, Kara was frakked up, didn't know what she wanted, pushing him away with one hand and shoving the other down his pants. Sucking back the booze and smokes like they'd be gone tomorrow, yelling at him, or worse, shutting herself down the way she'd do when she just wanted him gone. When she was done with him.

But he does miss her, can't help missing her. She came back for him, past the time when he'd given up hope, and with that single reckless-beautiful act, secured his undying loyalty.

Undying, there was a twisted joke. Crazy as it sounds, he'd imagined he'd probably kick off before her. He'd been sick on New Caprica, touch and go for a while there, and she'd always seemed so indestructible, like death couldn't catch her. But it had. And now he's the one in the bar every night sucking back the booze, trying his damnedest to kill a piece of himself.

The dark-haired girl over there catches his eye. What's her name, the president's aide – Tory, that's it. She's pretty enough, and, most importantly, looks nothing like Kara. Now she's talking to him, and he's not quite following what she's saying, but he gets the gist of it clear enough from her body language and the glow in her eyes.

The bunkroom's empty this time of night – everyone else is still out getting trashed. But Sam's got a big head start there, and Tory's mouth is at his ear, almost drowning out the ringing, humming buzz in his head. Soon he's got her pinned up against the wall, legs locked around his hips, and they're moving together like two well-oiled machines. He can feel the ship's subtle vibrations through her body, his fingers tangled in that long cascade of black hair, and he prides himself on how he's not thinking of Kara, except that of course now he is.

Maybe Tory knows what's on his mind, but if she does, she doesn't seem to care. She just unwraps herself from him long enough to push him down onto the bench and straddle him. Sam wonders in a brief moment of lucidity just what she's trying to forget, but the thought's gone before he can fully grasp it, and then she's grinding herself against him, getting herself off without much help beyond his simple presence inside her, hard and ready.

He's surprised when she kisses him afterwards, rests her head against his chest. He'd expected her to stand up and walk out, maybe with a smile or a "see you around" if he was lucky. He hadn't come, but it doesn't much bother him at this point – he's drunk enough that he wasn't even sure he'd have been able to, to be honest. So he just wraps his arms around her, awkwardly, almost mechanically at first. It takes him a few seconds to recognize that it feels unexpectedly good. It's because she wants to be held, he realizes. Because she hasn't run away.

The tears sting his eyes as he remembers the few (too few) times Kara'd let him hold her like this afterwards, and how it had almost always felt like she was just passing time, humoring him. He'd had a buried hope that maybe someday she'd come around, let him in, let him be the source of comfort he wanted to be for her. Dead and buried, now. No point in being angry at her anymore, or even angry at the gods for snatching her away. It's just finished, that's all.

Tory's breath is soft against his skin, and if she's got problems, Sam doesn't know what they are, doesn't have to be responsible for fixing them. He'll just hold her until she's ready to go, no strings attached. It's a strange sort of relief.


End file.
